


Katicillean's Story

by Katicillean



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Knight, Gen, Worgen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katicillean/pseuds/Katicillean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katicillean comes to Stormwind City in search of a new start in life (or undeath). My own ideas regarding the details of  Death Knights, so it's probably not entirely accurate to lore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival in Stormwind

It being the night before the Feast of Winter Veil, Robert’s small tavern was full. Friendly and jovial laughter echoed across the warm firelit room, punctuated by the thud of metal tankards. Servers weaved between the crowded tables, carrying brimming bowls of thick stew and platters of crusty bread. A Winter Veil tree glittered in a corner of the room, its branches drooping under glittering baubles and enchanted lights. The heavy oak door thunked open, admitting a single figure in heavy armor, and a gust of icy wind. Talk continued briefly before petering out as the bar’s clients nudged each other and pointed to the newcomer. She wore a dark hood drawn low over her face, though her eyes glowed with an eerie blue from the shadow it made. A heavy broadsword was strapped at her waist; the blade glowed with the same cold blue light, twisting runes dancing across its surface like mana worms. The cold air seemed to cling to her like a cloak, lowering the room temperature significantly despite the roaring fire.

The knight reached the bar and seated herself on an empty chair, unstrapping the sword, which she leaned against her stool. She swept back her hood, revealing a wolf’s snout and a mass of tangled black hair. Two small braids lay before her ears, the only attempt made to control the wild mane. One ear was half missing, and a cruel scar ran across her jaw.

A clear space formed around her, no one wanting to be too close. Even from behind, without seeing the eyes, one could tell she was a death knight: if the glowing runeblade didn't give it away, it was the sharp chill of the air, and the slight smell that hung over her. It wasn't quite rotting meat, but it wasn't something alive.

She laid a silver piece on the counter, and a full tankard of Robert’s best ale was laid before her. He marveled at the way the condensation froze on the metal when she picked it up, and a ring of frost was left on the bar’s wooden surface.

The bar's other patrons sipped their drinks in something close to stony silence, murmuring quietly to one another. Robert fiddled with the bottles behind the counter, hoping that if he avoided catching her eye she'd finish her drink and be on her way. You didn't get many death knights in Stormwind, not these days. Oh, the king may claim to offer hospitality to those poor lost souls, but no one really did. No, aside from the few who could be found huddled in corners on nests of tattered old rags, and the occasional execution, Stormwind was largely free of the things. After the Lich King was defeated, most of the knights (those who'd survived the battle, that is) had gone off to the more isolated parts of Azeroth, where they could be alone with their memories, and their only victims were the wild beasts. A few tried to make a name for themselves as heroes, though they were not well accepted. The rest were either suicidal, roaming Northrend seeking Arthas, or imprisoned in Stormwind's dungeons, half out of their minds.

The grey furred worgen currently contemplating the bottom of her tankard did not appear to fit any of these categories. The barman hadn't seen her before, and she didn't appear outgoing, so it was unlikely she was the heroic type. Clearly she was in full possession of herself, so probably not suicidal or insane. 

The bar's door was flung open, and a band of five or six young adventurers entered noisily, their raucous laughter filling the tavern. They were dressed in shiningly new armour, untarnished steel swords displayed prominently at their hips. When they caught sight of the lonely figure at the bar, their expressions turned to ones of belligerent cockiness, flicking through fear on the way. Smirking, the leader, a blond-haired young man looking to be no more than 20 years of age, nudged his friends and sauntered over to the bar, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He slid onto the stool next to hers, calling loudly for a beer. Still smiling, he turned and laid a hand upon her shoulder. All talk ceased, everyone straining to hear what was said.

“Hello there! Fine establishment, this, isn’t it? Some of the best ale in Stormwind, I’ve always said, right boys? Never known old Bob here to turn down a customer,” he waved in the general direction of the worried barman, then leaned in close to murmur, “although perhaps sometimes he should. You aren’t really welcome here, you know. Maybe you’ve got the people too scared to kick you out, but I’m not scared of you, and it’s my duty as a warrior of Stormwind to protect them when they can’t protect themselves.”

He leaned back again, grinning, and took a long pull from the tankard beside him. His friends had gathered in around him, though they made sure to keep out of the worgen’s range. The knight showed no sign of noticing their presence, and slowly took another sip of her drink. Her lack of response annoyed the warrior-in-training, and he leaned in again.

“Look, I don’t want to make a scene here, but I’ve tried being friendly. You aren’t wanted here, and you need to leave. I’m not afraid to make you.” The tavern was completely silent now, and more than a few of the patrons had a hand on their weapons. The barman, Robert, drew closer and muttered, “Come now, boys, leave the lady alone. It’s not right, picking fights with a lady.”

“I can handle myself, thanks!” The youth retaliated, drawing his sword. Several of his friends hurriedly backed away: an actual fight was more than they had bargained for.

“Now, now, Xavier,” Robert soothed, licking his lips anxiously. A fight with a death knight was the last thing he wanted. He’d only ever heard tales of their unnatural strength before, and he quite thought he’d prefer to keep it that way. He laid a hand on Xavier’s shoulder, hoping to calm him before anything happened.

Aware of the eyes of everyone in the tavern on him, Xavier snarled and pulled free of the barkeep’s grip, lunging towards the knight, who still appeared unaware of her surroundings. In a flash though, she had half-turned, one gloved hand gripping the steel training sword in a vice like hold, the other coming to rest heavily on the counter. She had made no move for her weapon: he was not that much of a threat. Slowly, the worgen lifted her head to regard the youth. Robert swallowed and stepped back. Xavier stared, transfixed by the glowing ice blue of her eyes, too terrified to move.

“I will not fight you, boy,” she intoned, her voice deep and gravelly. The natural roughness of her worgen voice was exacerbated by the cold, uneven tones of the undead. “I could slaughter you in seconds, and not even need my blade, and to do so would give me great pleasure. But I will not risk my freedom and continued existence for the extermination of a minor pest.” The knight released the blade, which fell to the floor with a heavy clunk. She picked up her tankard and emptied it in one smooth motion, then rose to her feet, hilted the great runesword, and stalked out.


	2. Doubts

Katicillean sighed as she made her way through the tangled maze of Stormwind’s streets, noting with interest that her breath made no cloud: It was already as cold as the winter air. She was disappointed that her attempt to join the humans had failed, but at least the cold did not bother her. The cobbled streets were mostly empty, and the few citizens she encountered merely turned up their hoods and hurried away. She suspected the lad had been correct when he said that no one wanted her. It had seemed too good to be true when she heard that King Wrynn had extended his welcome to those former warriors of the Lich King who sought to re-integrate themselves into society, but after living alone in the Hinterlands for so long, she couldn’t stand the isolation anymore, not the memories endlessly circling around, chasing each other through the broken remains of her mind, again and again and again until she wanted to scream and scream and maybe just maybe kill everything she found ruin it break it until she stood drenched in red and the world hurt like she did-

No! Kat took a deep breath, bringing her thoughts back under control. She’d let herself go a few times, back in the Hinterlands, waking up to find her possessions smashed and strewn across the forest floor amidst splintered trees and the ruined corpses of birds and squirrels. It had never helped, only relieving the pain and frustration for a short time before it came back worse than before. The last time it had happened, she decided that this was no sort of life (or undeath), and resolved to come to the human capital seeking something, anything, other than endless death and destruction.

She couldn’t remember much at all of her life, although occasionally in a moment of clarity she would recall brief snatches of … something. Kat had thought she had been to Stormwind before she died, recollections of the scents and sounds of a bustling city flickering through the storming darkness that was her memory. Now that she was here, she was not sure anymore; the medieval metropolis was a confusing tangle of unfamiliar experiences. Sighing again, the knight picked up her sword from where she had dropped it on the rough cobblestones and continued her solitary walk through the night.

She knew that in the houses lining the streets the humans were celebrating their winter festival, making merry with flagons of wine and mead and tables loaded with bread and meat. For her though, the windows were shuttered tight against the horrors of the night, including herself, she reflected bitterly. What she had hoped to find here, she wasn't sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The Stormwind guards were starting to throw her suspicious glances, and she saw more than a few move towards their swords. She became aware of an aerial guard mounted on a golden griffin following her, and Katicillean hurried towards the nearest inn before the suspicion could escalate. She had no desire to be arrested tonight.

Inside, the building was reasonably quiet, most of the patrons already retired to their chambers. A few late nighters were sitting around the hearth, regarding her with expressions only a little short of open hostility. Kat shifted her runeblade in an attempt to make it less noticeable, and flashed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It didn’t really work; they hurriedly fled, bidding the innkeeper a good night as they rushed out the door. In hindsight, displaying her pointed canine teeth were probably not the best gesture of goodwill. Kat sighed yet again, and approached the innkeeper about a room for the night.

The human woman did not seem eager to house a death knight, and Kat suspected that her being a worgen was not much help. She was more than a little behind on current events: the wilds of the Hinterlands wasn’t exactly a hub of news; but even so rumors of the fall of Gilneas had reached her lonely hut. At first she tried to claim that there were no rooms available, but when Kat pulled out her purse, it appeared that a room had become miraculously vacant. It was a little dishonest, leading the woman to believe she had plenty of coin to spare, as in reality the death knight had very little more than the clothes on her back. When one is dead, and the puppet of a larger force, there is no need for any material possessions.

***

The room was small, with rough wooden floors. A small wardrobe stood in one corner. The bed was centered on the opposite wall. Katicillean shut and locked the door behind her, the metal latch miniscule in her clawed hands. She padded over to the bed and sat down, the straw in the mattress releasing a plume of dust. The worgen set to the lengthy task of removing her armor: Each piece had to be carefully unbuckled and loosened enough to slip off the solid plates. When the job was completed she stretched tiredly, enjoying the new freedom of movement now that she was no longer restricted by the metal. Kat slipped between the covers, the lumpy mattress almost collapsing beneath her. It was not a particularly comfortable bed, but it was far better than curling up on the hard ground as she had done on her journey to the city. The cold didn’t bother her, but it was inconvenient to say the least to awake finding that the dew had frozen her to the ground.

She tossed and turned for a while, but was unable to reach a resting state. Since her death, Kat had not ‘slept’ as such, but more had retreated to a quieter part of her mind, and allowed her awareness of her surroundings to decrease. In this way she was able to relieve at least some of her mind’s exhaustion. The body itself did not appear to tire. Kat did not like to think of it as being her body: It was not at all related to her. When his knights had been damaged while in the service of the Lich King, he had seen no trouble in reviving them in new bodies, sometimes even those of the failed initiates, if he had thought them physically, if not mentally, strong enough. She herself had had several reincarnations. Kat couldn’t remember what she had looked like while she was alive. She tried not to dwell on the subject.

***

Somewhere in the city, a clock chimed twelve. Kat absently scratched at a flea. The insects appeared to be having some sort of meet-and-greet, with those she had brought with her disembarking to explore the ratty mattress, and those left by the previous guest testing the fresh blood. Sometimes when she thought about it, she was surprised they enjoyed her icy flesh, although other times, it seemed only logical they would revel in her thick blood. The fluid moved sludgily through her veins, and was almost black when it oozed up from an open wound, the red cells were so concentrated.

She found she felt very insecure being so close to other sentient creatures for once. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of a living, breathing human sleeping in the rooms on either side unsettled her deeply. Eventually, she swung her legs out of the bed and padded almost silently across the floor. Picking up the wardrobe was not too difficult, and she felt a lot better when it was placed across the doorway. She smiled slightly, and drifted into a deeply restful state.


	4. They Don't Want You Here

She awoke when the wintry sunlight streaming through the window struck her face. Kat yawned happily, having enjoyed one of the best ‘sleeps’ she’d had in ages. Finding herself to be unarmoured and in a bed, she startled briefly before remembering where she was. In the new light of day, the city seemed far more hospitable, and the white stone seemed to glow, if one squinted to avoid spotting the filth and grime that coated everything. To her sensitive worgen nose, the smells of the human metropolis were almost too much to bear.

Having re-donned her armour and shifted the wardrobe back to its initial location, Kat fumbled with the lock and slipped through the door. She glanced cautiously along the length of the corridor before proceeding towards the stairs. It wasn’t that she feared being overwhelmed in an attack, more that her time as a warrior of death had left her with an unwanted tendency to ‘kill first, ask questions later’. She could do without that sort of incident now. As she descended, it seemed very loud in the inn, oddly busy considering it was Winter Veil, and the people should have been home with their families.

Katicillean delicately raised her snout and sniffed. Indeed, the main room downstairs was completely full of people. The air stank of their emotions: doubt, anger, and fear. Curious of the reason, but dreading that she already knew, Kat raised her head and drew herself up, taking the time to ensure her expressionless mask was in place, and stepped around the corner and into full sight. A hush descended over the room as they took in every detail of her appearance, from her extra-long digitigrade legs, to the plate armour and well-worn sword she wore, and further, to the vicious talons tipping her fingers, and the feral wolfishness of her head. A few delicate housewives, longing to join the upper class, gasped dramatically and clutched the sleeves of their merchant husbands. Others frowned and drew themselves together, well-used to dealing with scoundrels and no strangers to trouble. The tension in the room was palpable, and as Kat made her way down the staircase she felt as though she was holding an aluminium sheet near a 4.7 Tesla magnet. She allowed herself a small frown. This crowd wasn’t going to leave without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just want to thank everyone for reading this, I really appreciate it! 
> 
> Sorry it's been so long for an update, I've had this written for a while but wanted to get chapter five done before posting it.
> 
> Thanks again, and please feel free to comment or critique! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Oh and the Tesla magnet analogy: I've been informed that there is a lot of air resistance and it feels like moving through something like thick water. Sorry, couldn't resist this analogy.


	5. Losing Control

Doing her best to ignore the assembled townsfolk, Katicillean made her way over to the innkeeper. She made a conscious effort to keep her hands from straying to the hilt of her runeblade, though this action went against every violent death knight instinct screaming through her body.  
While the innkeeper had never been warm towards Kat, her demeanour this morning was far more distant and impersonal, the woman refusing to acknowledge the worgen's request for a breakfast recommendation and only grudgingly accepting the tip pressed upon her. In the face of this unfriendly treatment, Kat's optimism dwindled. Eager to escape the confined quarters of the inn's common room, where the stench of sweat and fear were beginning to become overpowering, Katicillean moved towards the door.  
It was at this point the crowd surged forward as one, and while they did not directly block her exit, the act was unmistakably aggressive. Kat got the distinct impression that these citizens knew exactly how dangerous she would be in a fight, and she couldn't understand why they would jeopardise their lives in this way. It was almost as though they were trying to provoke her into attacking, just to get rid of the unwelcome death knight.  
Both sides stood still for a moment, each sizing the other up. Kat wondered briefly if they would actually try to stop her should she continue towards the door. Before she could test this, though, her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shrieking of griffins and the clanking of mail and plate armour.  
The inn’s door flew open to reveal several of Stormwind’s finest: at least ten foot soldiers and three griffin riders. It would appear they took the threat of death knights seriously here.  
The guards approached her warily, alert to every movement. While Kat herself did not want any altercations, neither did she relish the idea of gaol and inevitable execution. Death knights were not given any second chances: once captured they were, without exception, destroyed. The warring desires seethed within her, and as always occurred when the emotions became too strong, her rational mind succumbed to the undead rage. Lost to bloodlust and plaguefury, the worgen’s ears flicked back, and the now brightly glowing runeblade seemed to leap into its hands. It lunged forward, snarling fiercely. There a burst of blinding, searing, burning, light, and pain pain pain! before everything blurred into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 should be up soon.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Any comments or critiques welcome.
> 
> (Also I can't get the previously written note below this to go away, not sure why it's here?)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> This is the first fan-fiction I've written alone, but the idea's been bouncing around in my head for a while now.
> 
> Note: I do not own World of Warcraft, or any of its characters.


End file.
